o do the
dirty work in the corrals--brandin' and ear-markin' and the like--but
for ridin' the range and drivin' they was as good as the best. Well,
sir, you'd think every man in Arizona, when he heard what they was
doin', would do everythin' in his power to help 'em along, even to
runnin' a Dos S on an _orehanna_ once in a while instead of hoggin' it
himself; but they's fellers in this world, I'm convinced, that would
steal milk from a sick baby!"

The brawny foreman of the Dos S dropped the cat and threw out his
hands impressively, and once more the wild glow crept back into his
eyes.

"You remember that Jim Swope that I introduced you to down on the
desert? Well, he's a good sheepman, but he's on the grab for money
like a wolf. He's got it, too--that's the hell of it."

Creede sighed, and threw a scrap of bacon to Tommy.

"He keeps a big store down at Moroni," he continued, "and the widde',
not wantin' to shove her cows onto a fallin' market, runs up an
account with him--somethin' like a thousand dollars--givin' her note
for it, of course. It's about four years ago, now, that she happened
to be down in Moroni when court was in session, when she finds out by
accident that this same Jim Swope, seein' that cattle was about to go
up, is goin' to close her out. He'd 'a' done it, too, like fallin' off
a log, if the old judge hadn't happened to be in town lookin' up some
lawsuit. When he heard about it he was so durned mad he wrote out a
check for a thousand dollars and give it to her; and then, when she
told him all her troubles, he up and bought the whole ranch at her own
price--it wasn't much--and shipped her and the girls back to St.
Louie."

Creede brushed the dirt and flour off the table with a greasy rag and
dumped the biscuits out of the oven.

"Well," he said, "there's where I lost my last chanst to git a girl.
Come on and eat."

CHAPTER VI

THE CROSSING

From lonely ranches along the Salagua and Verde, from the Sunflower
and up the Alamo, from all the sheeped-out and desolate Four Peaks
country the cowboys drifted in to Hidden Water for the round-up,
driving their extra mounts before them. Beneath the brush _ramada_ of
the ranch house they threw off their canvas-covered beds and turned
their pack horses out to roll, strapping bells and hobbles on the bad
ones, and in a day the deserted valley of Agua Escondida became alive
with great preparations. A posse of men on fresh mounts rode out on
Bro